Rose, With Love
by whollistic8and8hopeless
Summary: Who shall Christine choose in this seemingly endless love triangle between two men she both has affection for... chapter 6 is finally up! the story is better than summary...
1. Dreaming in Darkness

So this is my story...well at least part of it. I don't think about continuing it because it's like all the same. Eventually I'd make Christine choose Erik over Raoul and they'd live happily and everything... o.O

I just really had to channel all the POTO fluff I was keeping in. it was oozing out of me! So here is my story. Like it. Don't like it. It's really okay :)

Oh just a note: the part where Erik sings to Christine, it's in the tune of Angel of Music/Mirror Scene. And the second line is the tune of the line, "flattering child you shan't know me..."

I don't own any of the characters used here...no infringement or profit meant...just fluff :)

Chap 1 refined and reedited.

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_Her heart is pounding with adrenaline, her breathing is uneven. She is frightened. She does not know where she is, though she feels that she has been here before. It is pitch-black except for one candle that burns dimly a few feet across her own. She tries to stand up and grab the candle to protect her from the darkness, but her hands and feet are tied together by a thick and uniquely created rope that is twisted more tightly than any rope made by man. A monster perhaps?_

_She squints in the darkness, as if pushing the blackness out of her eyes will make any difference. She makes out figures in the shadows of the shy candlelight. There is a bed near the far end of the wall and beside it an organ with, she thought she saw, an unfinished score lying on the cover, patiently waiting to be completed by its maestro. _

_Sweat is dripping down her temples, along her jaw and finally melts into the base of her neck down into her chest. Even though the darkness seemed cold enough to freeze her, the candlelight seemed to emit strong heat waves that made her head throb and her arms quiver._

_She murmurs a "hello" only to find that she is alone and that no one will save her from her own fright of anxiety: waiting to die, waiting to live. She greets the darkness louder this time, and with more desperation as she begins to hyperventilate. _

_Moments that seemed like hours had passed and finally she saw a pair of shoes emerging from the darkness. The shoe buckles glisten softly in the dim lighting of the room. They stopped. _

_Her pulse quickened with fear and slowly looked up at her the man who held her captive. His clothes were of high-class; they were crisp and were in dark shades of black, royal blue, and crimson red._

_His torso was muscular and curved to shape a toned body. His gloves were of prestigious leather with rich embroidery around the fingertips and on the outer palms._

_Further up were his cuff links. They were white gold, and were carved into the shape of an angel's face. His jacket pocket contained a flawless rose tucked neatly inside it so that only the young bud would be seen. It was the most beautiful rose she had ever laid eyes on. _

_Her eyes moved up even more, almost nervously and anxious to meet the eyes of the mysterious man who intrigued her more than frightened her. She stopped breathing heavily and stayed still and wide-eyed. _

_She could only make out of his face a very faint outline of a chiseled jaw and strong pointed nose. If she squinted harder, she would make out thin lips. But what astonished her more were the man's eyes, for they were emerald green. They had such luster that if she focused on them, they would shine in her eyes and into her soul and fill it with such garish illumination that had its own darkness that compelled her to look any further. _

_The second thing she noticed was that he was wearing a mask that only covered the right side of his face. This intrigued her greatly and she became drawn to it. To the man._

"_Christine". _

_She was in a deep state of hallucination that she did not realize that his lips had opened slightly and her name had gently streamed out. His voice was a soft melody of letters strung together in perfect harmony. Hearing her name had sent a shiver down her spine and brought her back to utter consciousness of what was going on._

"_Christine". The man had spoken once more and with more urgency for a reply._

"_W-who are you?" Christine had managed to verbalize._

_The man had not answered her question, but continued to stare at her with his beautiful, penetrating eyes. Seeing this as more of a challenge, Christine had begun a little staring contest and glared at him with her hazel eyes. The man had leaned over her, close enough for her to smell his perfume, jasmine and sweet musk._

"_Sleep now, Christine" the man had whispered after a few seconds of the silent war between their eyes. A wave of exhaustion had swept over Christine and she realized that she was extremely tired. Her eyelids had begun to droop and her body had begun to loosen its flexed muscles in weariness. She tried to fight her exhaustion but something inside told her that she would be safe._

_As she was about to drift off, she heard a lullaby being sung by the man accompanied by a sweet melody on the organ._

"Your Angel of Music watches over you now. Sleep now my child, the Angel of Music watches over you now."

Christine opened her eyes out of sleep. Her heart was beating wildly against her chest and cold sweat was beaded on her forehead. It was a dream, she had thought, nothing more, though it was a dream she would have almost every night.

She looked around the usual surroundings; her dresser was to her left, with a few lipstick tubes scattered about, and a bowl and a pitcher of water was already there waiting for her to rinse her face in.

Directly in front of her was her enormous wardrobe, intricately designed at the borders with loops of Fleur-de-lis, containing gowns she would wear for the opera galas held after her performance on stage. Beside her bed was her Oakwood side table, the usual miscellaneous objects on top, yet something oddly different. Beside her bible on the side table lay a rose. The same rose she had dreamed.

She picked the rose up to make sure that it was real. She ran her fingers along the length of the rose, and began to examine it as a detective would observe a piece of evidence from a crime.

She gently touched the crimson petals of the rose which were as velvety as her own ivory skin. Tied on the stalk of the rose was a black ribbon. Slowly, she stroked the ribbon and closed her eyes, and imagined the man from her dream looking down on her with his incandescently green eyes. His very presence in her mind was enough to make Christine feel uneasily attracted to him. Even though the dream remained the same, the intensity of her feelings of desire and burning passion was growing with each time that she had dreamed.

Should she inform Raoul of this? Raoul was Christine's suitor and childhood friend. He had been courting her for three months now, claiming that their long friendship had been enough to make him love her for a lifetime.

Christine has yet to give her answer to marry him, though her heart would flutter at the very mention of his name. He was a de Chagny, one of the most powerful families in France which controlled sixty percent of the diamond industry. As a result, Christine would receive glamorous jewelry from Raoul almost every time he visited her at the opera.

She briefly held the necklace with an angel charm that Raoul had given her, and wondered whether or not she should tell Raoul about this recurring dream that she experienced almost every night. He was, after all, her best friend and she could tell him anything, even about a dream she kept having about a man coming up to her and making her feel something in the pit of her stomach that she had never felt before. Right?

Christine stood up and stretched her arms. She walked across the room to the window letting warm sunlight flood in. She opened it and a cool breeze kissed her face. She peered down onto a group of trees whose inhabitants were still asleep themselves. She smiled at the thought that she was an early-riser, one of many traits she had inherited from her father, Gustav Daae, a world-renowned Swedish violinist who had died when Christine was only fourteen years young.

Then, she was taken to the Opera Populaire where she would learn and live to be a ballet and chorus girl. She was taught how to dance by Madame Giry, the ballet instructor who also stood as Christine's mother. Madame Giry's daughter, Meg Giry, was Christine's best friend.

Who taught Christine to sing, she does not know. She calls him her Angel of Music. She does not know who he is, just that his voice resounds in the walls and in her head. She had never seen him ever since he had begun singing her to sleep every night when she was a younger.

He was very strict with her; in exchange for singing lessons, he demanded that she do everything he asks of her lest he should send a demon upon her to serve as her come-uppance. As a result, he had molded Christine's great singing potential into a blooming beauty of sweet song.

Christine put her elbow atop the window sill and lay her chin on her hand. She contemplated and wondered what Raoul's reaction would be if she told her about the dream. The jealousy of it would drive him mad.

Raoul was a respectable man of eighteen, who had an equal share of an issue of possession. Se hadn't wanted any other man to challenge him in a courtship duel over Christine who was only sixteen years old. Her young and innocent beauty proved her to be a worthy prize for any man. She did not like to be called a prize or a mark of a man's capability. She wanted to be loved and cared for as a wife whose husband was kind to her and put her above everything else.

That was a characteristic that she loved about Raoul: his ability to cherish a woman the way she should be.

After moments of looking out the window, she heard a soft bustle happening outside her room. People are waking up now, she thought. It would be another busy day of rehearsals, was this how she was to spend her life? Aimlessly attending rehearsals and performing onstage was not the kind of life Christine had intended for herself. She loved adventure for the thrill of it and the way her body recognized the risk of getting injured astounded her. Again, another trait she got from her late father which consequently cost him his life.

As she was preparing her day clothes behind her dressing screen, she heard the voice of her master emanating from the walls. She stopped moving. Her body frigid, she listened in anxious patience for her master's instructions for the day.

"_My Angel of Music, great performance! I'm pleased with you child, truly. But something is wrong, yes, I can sense it. Sing to me dear! Sing song!"_

There! The man in her haunting dreams had been her teacher! Why had she not recognized his voice before?

_"Angel of Music, I am frightened. Stay with me now, guide me! The dream that I had was of you and of me, why were you there, Master?"_

He had praised her for her singing of the opera "Le Jardin" which he had composed himself. She waited as her Angel sang back to her. He had always sung to her and asked that she do the same. It had been the only way for her to develop her voice and ability to match words to the music that her teacher had prepared.

"_Christine, you speak of such riddles! You do not know who I am. But I shall reveal soon to you, child. Let your heart beat wild!"_

His voice had echoed until it was nothing. With corset in hand, Christine beamed at the very thought of meeting her long-awaited Angel! The day would go by fast, she thought for tonight she would wait in anticipation for her teacher to come and show himself.

She quickly dressed up and combed her long, russet-colored, curly hair and tied it neatly with the black ribbon that the rose was tied with.

Before she went out of her room, she glanced at the rose on her side table and finally decided not to tell Raoul about her dream.


	2. Living in Haste

Chapter two…refined and reedited

I don't own any of the characters of POTO….

Please read and review, dear fanfickers.

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"Christine! You'll never guess what I dreamt about last night!" beamed Meg, as she rushed to Christine's side and quickly put her arm around hers. Meg was Christine's sister if not by blood. They shared everything together. It was even Meg's mother, Antoinette Giry who harbored Christine when she first stepped into the opera world.

_Neither would you,_ Christine thought. "What is it, Meg?" she asked, thoroughly interested but still thought about her teacher who had visited her dreams.

"Oh Christine, I was the prima Donna of Opera Populaire! I was attending a gala that was just for me and everyone came up to me and applauded and threw roses at my feet! It's the best dream I've ever had!" squeaked Meg as they bristly walked through the corridor leading from the dormitories of the ballet dancers to the dressing rooms of Opera Populaire.

"What a splendid dream, Meg! I hope this dream of yours really does come true. We can even sing a duet talking about the bond and love of two sisters!" replied Christine, wanting to support her confidante in any way she could.

"Oh, you know that I wouldn't be able to be as good as you." said Meg as she humbly lowered her head and talked to her feet as they walked. Meg had always looked up to Christine and had wanted to be a great soprano like her.

"Don't tease me," Christine said, rolling her eyes in mock arrogance. They giggled together as they strapped on their ballet shoes and stretched their legs.

"Meg, I dreamed as well last night," whispered Christine, "do you remember the Angel of Music that I told you about when we were young? He visited me, Meg. He visited my dreams, but it was strange! He tied me by strong ropes and confined me in a dark and frightening room. What Angel would do such a thing?"

"Christine, it was a dream. Nothing more and this Angel of yours, Christine? I beg to disagree that he exists. No man is an angel, even Raoul." Replied Meg, sounding concerned that her best friend had increasingly talked in riddles in the past few days.

"He is Meg! He is my teacher! My maestro! I know he is my Angel because my father sent him to me when he passed away, promising that an Angel would come and guide me." Rebutted Christine, wondering why Meg was being so difficult when she needed her the most; completely ignoring the remark about Raoul.

Just as Meg was about to argue back to Christine, her mother walked into the dressing room and glanced at both of them. She was wise enough to realize that they were having a row and stepped in quickly to stop the bickering girls.

"Have I taught you girls nothing except to bicker and fight? God forbid I send you two out on Paris' streets and leave you there!" snapped Madame Giry, silencing the two in their place. They knew not to speak when Madame Giry was cross.­

"I want the both of you ready in three minutes," said Madame Giry, "we will begin rehearsals for Il Muto today and I would want my best dancers prepared for it. Our benefactors, the de Chagnys shall be sitting in on our rehearsal schedule."

Christine blushed at the thought of Raoul coming to watch her practice. He rarely came during the preparation period of a performance but was always present for each opera. He would always wait for Christine after each performance and presented her with a bouquet of France's freshest roses. Christine always reprimanded him for giving so much thought on her performance because she was merely a dancer and not a singer.

"Your time will come soon enough, mon amour. I know you sing beautifully" remembered Christine as Raoul had said that to her one night after an opera performance.

"Monsieur de Chagny will be visiting? That is wonderful maman! Isn't it, Christine?" asked Meg as she spun around and looked at Christine for a response.

The redness in Christine's cheeks deepened. "Yes…that would be s-splendid…" replied Christine, glancing at Mme. Giry noticing the sudden tension in her posture. Mme. Giry had nothing against Raoul pursuing Christine but was very strict with shaping Christine's career in the opera. A suitor would be too much of a distraction for her.

"Christine, just be sure that your head and eyes will be in their rightful place as we rehearse," Mme. Giry said sternly.

"Oui, Madame Giry." Christine nodded, but only half-heartedly for her thoughts had wandered elsewhere and landed on the question of whether her teacher would reveal himself before the opera that evening.

"Come now, children, the aria is starting." Said Madame Giry as she led them on to the hallway leading to the stage.

As they were walking down the corridor, Christine suddenly felt a chill down her spine and the hairs of her nape rose. She looked up and glanced at the rafters to see if anyone was there. She could have sworn she heard someone whisper her name.

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Short chapter, but yeah…


	3. Walking in Mist

Here's the third chapter

I don't own any of the characters expect the ones I might have invented…

This is where Christine finally meets her angel and gets more than she bargained for…hmmm

Please read and review, dear fanfickers.

The day sped by quickly for Christine was much too excited to meet her teacher. She spent a wonderful lunch with Raoul who had told her that he would have to leave for England after the performance that night on business.

That night was the longest night Christine had ever lived. She could not stop fidgeting for the performance to be over. Meg had laughed at her for acting like a little squirrel.

"Christine! Why are you so unsettled?" Meg whispered to Christine just before the huge finale of the opera where Ronaldo leaves Frida to die of a broken heart. They rushed out to the stage and executed pirouettes and ballet stands while the orchestra played the climax of the story with tremulous brass instruments and spine-tingling notes from the violins.

Madame Giry watched from a spot backstage, keeping a sharp eye on Christine, praying that she not commit errors for she sensed her anxiety. She never had to worry about her dear Meg because she knew that she was taught well and was born directly into the opera business. Christine, on the other hand, was born into a world of distress from her mother and father.

Madame Giry knew exactly why Christine could not be placed. She knew that Erik, Christine's teacher though she doesn't know his name, had agreed to meet Christine in person. Madame Giry had a deep and meaningful connection to Erik for she had brought him to the opera house in the first place. She saved him from an awful fate of being hanged because of his…his…difference. She was the one who helped keep his identity buried and he sent her notes if he ever required anything.

The performance finally ended and was greeted by a standing ovation and roses were thrown to the main stars, Piangi, who played Ronaldo, and la Carlotta, who played Frida.

Christine hastily bowed three times to the audience, and swept away through the right side of the stage ignoring all the praises and congratulations from the people who lingered there. She hadn't even thought to stay behind and wait for Raoul to come.

She rushed to her humble dressing room which resembled an over-sized broom storage and quickly stripped away her oracle-like costume. She rummaged through her cabinet looking for a dress that she deemed to be perfect to wear for the occasion. She found it and swiftly and accurately put it on--years of backup dancing had been an education experience for Christine to change costume quickly. She rapidly brushed her chestnut hair and straightened out her dress. She then examined herself in the full length mirror that was to the left of her dressing room.

The dress was modest; a beautiful shade of green, reminiscent of a sad color of emerald. There were embroidered vines swirling around the bodice and ending downwards. The corset hugged her body perfectly to reveal womanly curves.

I hope he will like this outfit. Christine thought to herself as she played around with the hem of her corset.

The candles suddenly began to dim and the noise outside her dressing room quieted down. Christine pressed her back to the door and held her breath. A haze had appeared in the room and started to fog up the mirror. It was humid and heavy air and beads of sweat trickled down Christine's neck.

He's here. Christine excitedly thought to herself. There was something so erotic about the room and she closed her eyes and waited.

"Christine…" a soft melody of a voice had streamed through the walls and entered Christine's heart.

She opened her eyes and sang back, trembling. "Master? Have you finally come to reveal yourself to me?" 

"Child, you have waited so long. Open your heart and sing to me! I am waiting in your reflection!" the voice had boomed and sent the room shivering.

Reflection. He is in the mirror? Christine cautiously stepped forward to the mirror and peered into it. The haze had thickened and a white mask had appeared through the clouds.

"I am your Angel of Music. Come to me, Angel of Music…" seductively, the voice of the mask had beckoned her.

Christine, hypnotized, had walked through the threshold of the mirror to be greeted by an extended, gloved hand. She hesitated for a moment, thinking not to trust the voice. Is it really my teacher there? Who is this masked figure of a man? But her heart had urged her on and she held onto the hand. Abandoning the world behind her, she walked on, following the masked man whose hand she was holding, through the long and narrow corridor.

Her heart was pounding in her chest which was moving up and down, taking in as much air as she could to support the rushing blood in her veins.

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Raoul had looked for Christine after the performance, but could not find her among the gabbing dancers backstage. He spotted Meg and walked toward her.

"Meg, have you seen Christine? I cannot seem to find her anywhere, and I must bade goodbye before I leave for England tonight" he asked her.

Shocked by the sudden inquisition of Raoul, Meg replied, "I'm afraid not, Monsieur. I have not seen her since our performance on stage. Have you checked her dressing room?"

Raoul examine the already thinning crowd, getting to the point of worrisome. "Merci, Meg. I shall visit her dressing room, then." A quick bow to the young lady, and Raoul was off to her room.

As he neared the door, he noticed mist rising from the crack on the lower part of the door. His heart beat quickened and he rushed to the door, which was unfortunately locked. He rapped on the door and shouted her name.

"Christine! Christine! My love, are you alright in there? Open the door!"

He put his ear to the door and tried to listen to the movement behind the door.

"…Come to me, Angel of Music…" he heard faintly. A man's voice.

With more urgency, he banged his fist into the door, in hopes of breaking through it.

"CHRISTINE! Please, open the door!!" He screamed into the wood.

Christine could not hear Raoul calling for her because she was all too mesmerized by the voice leading her on. The man turned his head to look back at her and his luminescent eyes peered into her own and emotion flooded through Christine and she took a breath.

"In sleep he sang to me. In dreams he came…" 

He led her on.

"…that voice which calls to me. And speaks my name…"

He led her on.

I reedited the other chapters so that they were more aligned…and well, easier to read in structure…

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	4. Beginning in Distress: part one

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I decided to stray away from the story a bit so that we have a thorough background about Christine's life before she met her Angel of Music

I decided to stray away from the story a bit so that we have a thorough background about Christine's life before she met her Angel of Music. Rereading chapter 3 and stopping at "life born into distress" made me ponder over my Christine's life and I wanted to elaborate how close Raoul is to Christine and vice versa. It adds more spice to the love triangle that's developing.

It's just a pacing chapter…read it or not, it's okay. It might not really have a lot to do with the story…it's in the third person omniscient but peering mostly into the thoughts of Christine. Setting was just before she was brought to the opera.

I don't own any of the characters here except the unfamiliar ones…pls Read and Review dear fanfickers

Here goes nothing.

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He hit my mommy on the face and she stumbled down upon my feet. I had come into their room to bid them good night and kiss them both on the cheek as a good girl would do to her parents.

His action had taken me aback and I stared down at my mommy who didn't stir even when I nudged the back of her head. Limp.

"Christine!" my daddy growled at me and held me up by my arms. I'm screaming to let me go.

"What are you doing here?! Had I not told you to go to bed?!" he cried at me, veins protruding from the sides of his neck.

He threw me to the floor beside my mother and I ran out of there until I found myself jogging on the lonely and dark streets of Paris. There was one place I wanted to go. Raoul's manor. I had crept up his mansion before and I climbed up the vines on the house that led to his room. There, we shared stories from the north and boxes of chocolates until my mother would fetch me and we bade goodbye.

"G'bye, Little Lotte! See you in the morrow then, shall I?" little Raoul shouted from the mansion steps as my mother and I walked out the gate.

"So you shall, Prince of Diamonds!" Christine shouted back, endearing the names they gave each other.

Walking stealthily through the bar gates, Christine relished at the memory and walked faster, eager to be with her best friend. She climbed up the north side of the house for that was where Raoul's bed chamber was. She inwardly thanked Raoul for convincing his father to leave growing vines on his side of the house; it made climbing much, much easier.

She grunted as she heaved herself up the first vine, and the next, and the next, until she reached his bedroom window. Panting, she rapped softly on the glass to rouse Raoul from his slumber. He got up from bed, golden hair all tousled, and walked to the window to see what the noise was. He pulled the window up and just as his arms retracted back to his body, Christine jumped into his arms hugging him tightly and sobbing quietly.

"Christine! Little Lotte, why are you crying?" Raoul asked her, returning her hug. He waited for her to compose herself enough to say a few things. She eased out of the hug and faced him.

"H-he, hit m-my mother and he h-hit me too! Oh, Raoul!" Christine managed to say and buried her face into his chest once again.

"Your father?" Raoul asked and he felt her nod.

"Christine, let's get you inside. It must be very cold tonight! I'll lend you my night clothes so you can warm yourself," Raoul told Christine, who only realized then that she was drenched in the night's fog. She allowed him to lead her deeper into his chamber and he sat her down on the nearest chaise. She was still shivering from the cold so he moved quickly to his wardrobe to retrieve a thick woolen sweater, a pair of pajamas and socks. He told her to change into them and dutifully turned around while she did. When she had finished, he placed her wet clothes on the fence of the fireplace and returned to the chaise and spoke.

"Little Lotte, will you tell me everything that happened?" Raoul asked cajolingly, not wanting to force her to tell him what happened.

Christine wiped her nose on the sleeve of the sweater she wearing and began.

"Well, I went to their room to say good night but before I entered their room, I stopped at their door because I heard raised and heated voices.

'_You never have time for your family anymore! All you care about is your music and your damned opera!' _I heard my mother say. Then my father replied, '_Music is my life, Darietta! I thought you would understand that! I cannot live without music in my soul!'_

'_Well then can you live without Christine and I in your life?!' _my mother screamed at my father,"

Raoul was listening intently and occasionally caressing her back to soothe her sobs. She continued.

"Then, I opened the door wide and the next thing I knew, I hear a loud crack then a thud and my mother was on the floor, unconscious. My father picked me up and shouted at me and threw me to the floor beside my mother. Oh Raoul they get worse each time! I had nowhere else to go! I am so afraid!" then Christine huddled herself into Raoul's arms and he rocked her back and forth.

"Shh…Little Lotte, you are safe here for tonight," Raoul whispered into her curly hair, "I'll protect you from your father,"

"Oh Raoul, you're still too young. _We_ are still too young. To face adults like them would be the end of us," Christine chuckled softly, admiring her Prince's valor but still tried to make him remember that they were mere adolescents.

Raoul held her chin between his fingers and brought her face closely to his own and whispered, "My Lotte, I may be young of a mere sixteen winters and springs and summers and autumns. But my heart is true and it tells me that my love for you runs deeper into the earth than any season has. I love you, Little Lotte," he finished by kissing her softly on her forehead and hugging her tightly.

"Oh Raoul, my Prince of Diamonds, my very best friend. I love you also. You are the only to whom I can share any secret with. Tell me we will be best friends forever?" Christine breathed into his chest.

Raoul's heart sank. She loved him as a best friend. He had poured out the contents of his heart into her deep hazel eyes and she had missed every point he had intended to make. Nonetheless, if she didn't love him as a man just yet, he would have to make do with being loved as a best friend.

"Yes, Little Lotte," Raoul sighed. "I will always be right here for you whenever you need me. Just call out my name, and I'll be there (A/N: I simply couldn't resist adding some touches of the song You've Got a Friend…). You are my best friend also even if my father despises my actions to befriend a 'peasant' as he says."

Christine laughed at that through the tears that were flooding her eyes. A peasant, she might have been but a respectable one at that.

The last thing she remembered was Raoul whispering to her as they both lay on the chaise, Christine beside Raoul, cuddled into the right side of his body.

"_I'm here. Nothing can harm you. My words will warm and calm you…"_

Christine woke up the next morning, surprised that Raoul was not there. A bit scared, she called him out.

"Raoul…Raoul?" her voice hoarse. She sat up on the chaise, waiting for him to come if he would.

After moments that seemed like hours, Raoul emerged from the door that led to the hallway. He was already dressed for the day and she looked down at her attire and blushed. He smiled at her and walked toward the chaise. He knelt at her feet and held her hand and kissed her knuckles.

"How are you feeling today, Christine?"

"Much better than last night. How long was I asleep?" Christine inquired, suddenly fully aware that she had slept in another person's house without their permission. She could only imagine how furious Raoul's father would be. She felt guilty inside and chided herself for dragging Raoul into her whole mess.

Raoul sat beside her on the chaise and replied, "Well, you slept soundly the whole night. I woke up at sunrise and debated whether I should wake you too and bring you home before your parents discovered your disappearance. But you were so deeply in slumber, I couldn't bring myself to stir you, so I left you to sleep while I talked with my father." His brow suddenly contracted into a furrow.

"Raoul, please, I am so sorry. I hadn't meant to bring you into my troubles. I wasn't thinking! I-," Christine started to apologize before Raoul had interrupted her.

"Christine, I'm afraid I have terrible news…" Raoul started.

Christine's heart stopped.

A/N: Oh I'm sorry for the horrible cliff-hanger! I got carried away with myself and just wrote and wrote and wrote and I had to change some things in my previous chapters to align them with this history..its hard! and I think I missed out a few parts about the age difference and the time Christine was brought to the opera house..the age doesn't matter!! What matters is that she is young and innocent.… it seems that my plan of one chapter devoted to her background failed….part two is a-coming! I have it already actually but I'ma let this chapter simmer on a hotbed for a while…I'll pro'lly put up the next chapter in a few hours or so.

Oh how cool! My iTunes shuffled to Anymore, by Emmy Rossum…hmmm is this a sign from the next chapter to come?

A/N: uhm there isn't any innuendo okay? where Christine goes to Raoul for help...its pure innocence although Raoul does speak abt a few things... :)


	5. Beginning in Distress: part two

Here's part two!!

I don't own any of the POTO characters or anything related to POTO

Please read and review, dear fanfickers :)

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Christine sighed and drooped her shoulders. _What could possibly be more terrible than my torn family? _But nonetheless, she hadn't wanted to hear any bad news that morning. She wanted to be with Raoul and forget everything else. _What does that mean? Do I…Do I love him?_

"Christine?" Raoul asked, moving into the view of Christine's far-thinking and held her left cheek with a warm hand.

"Wha-?" Christine blinked, and stared into Raoul's caring, golden eyes. "I'm sorry, what is it?"

Raoul took in a deep breath and spoke, "I talked with my father, Christine," he drew closer to her and took her hand in his, "and, and he's gotten wind of confirmed news that…your parents are dead."

_Way to go, de Chagny. Break it to her so bluntly. You idiot!_

Christine sat wide-eyed and mouth ajar, helpless. Raoul moved to her and started to hug her before she slapped him across his face. He took it in and looked down at his feet. Christine stood up, still staring at him, trembling from head to foot, tears forming in her big, brown eyes.

_How could he? How could he tell me like this?!_

Raoul stood up as well, and embraced the already sobbing Christine. She pounded him in the chest, trying to get away from him but it was no use, his warm embrace was the only thing she had to hold onto in this world. He lowered their bodies onto the floor still holding onto Christine's tiny frame in his arms. There they sat in his room, in silence save for Christine's shuddering sobs.

It was a long while before Christine was able to compose herself. As she lay in Raoul's arms, she thought to herself. _How could this all happen in the span of a few hours? My parents are dead…I don't know why…I think I love Raoul…I can't handle all of this right now…_

As if Raoul was reading Christine's mind, he whispered. "Christine, you don't have to do this alone, I will help you. But first you must help yourself. I've asked my butler to fetch you some clothes from your house and I've instructed the cook to have a meal brought up to you here. Dress up, Christine and eat. You will need energy."

Still at a loss for words, Christine merely nodded and performed the tasks Raoul asked of her. The soup and bread Raoul's servant brought up to her was nourishing and she felt better but still shaken.

"Are you ready to hear what happened, Christine?" Raoul asked gently, making sure that she really was ready to hear what he was going to say.

Christine drank the last of her soup and replied, "yes, thank you for the soup, Raoul. And yes, I am ready." She inhaled deeply as he began.

"Well, as you know, I spoke with my father. It was he who relayed to me the news of your parents'…imminent passing." He tried to make it as subtle as possible. Christine sat quietly, waiting to hear more.

"My father was very disturbed that you came to our house and that I harbored you for the night," Raoul said, Christine bowing her head, "but he is not concerned for that as of the moment. He is just relieved that you are safe.

"It seems that very early this morning, as the police were patrolling the streets, they stumbled upon a…body…that they identified to be your father's"

Goosebumps rose on Christine's ivory skin, and Raoul sensed her great discomfort. _I should get this over with RIGHT NOW!_

"they investigated the…scene and concluded that your father had been drinking…profusely…he was roaming the streets and neighbors heard him singing about a cherry tree that bloomed far more entrancing than any other tree in the world," raoul's face scrunched up trying to remember every word that he remembered his father say.

_Cherry…Cherry blossom…was my fathers pet name for…my mother…_

"he was singing…and drinking at the same time…police say that he drowned…literally in his sorrow. They inferred that he had already discovered that his wife was dead by the blow to the head he struck at her, and he went drinking"

He looked at Christine and noticed a wet line drawn with her tears dripping from her eyes. His heart will break when he sees her reaction to the next thing he was going to say. He didn't want to leave anything out but he knew that it would hurt.

"Little Lotte, there's more, I'm afraid…" he spoke softly while reaching for something in his breast pocket. He handed her a small envelope with a seal of an angels face. On the back was written 'Christine'

She reached over to get it and brushed her fingers at the seal, knowing for certain that this was from her father.

"I shall give you some privacy, so that you may read the letter in peace," Raoul said, already standing up and walking to the door.

Christine nodded but said, "Raoul, please don't go too far,"

Raoul nodded once and slipped out of the room quietly. When he closed the door behind him, Christine focused her attention onto the envelope and carefully opened it. Holding her breath as she did so, knowing that it was her dead father who wrote the note.

She read the letter and tears were already forming in her eyes at the sight of 'My child", addressing her. She read on.

_Your mother is dead. I killed her by my own hand. Will you ever forgive me? I was not the father I was supposed to be. I neglected you and your mother and left you two to wait for me every night when I was not home. I became too immersed in my music and I hadn't shared it with you. I didn't even have the chance to teach you to play the violin, my love. I am sorry._

_I am not fit to be your father. I am sorry. I deprived you of a childhood complete with a family._

_But I promise you this, when I die-and I do not expect you to mourn for your father's wretched soul-I will send someone to show you the world of music. I will send you an angel. An angel of music who will teach you of the many wonders of song that I was not able to give you._

_I love you my darling daughter, my one and only child, the sweetest gift God has sent me. I love you, and I love your mother until the last breath I take in as a human and until the last of me is gone from this earth._

_Forever loving you,_

_Father_

By this time, Christine was once again convulsing with sobs and stood up to throw the letter into the fireplace, keeping the envelope in her right hand. She watched sorrowfully, as the flamed licked at the sides of the paper until it consumed it completely. By the scrawled handwriting, Christine knew for sure that her father had already started drinking. She didn't want to know what was her father in the letter and what was the absinthe.

Christine screamed in anguish and knelt on the floor holding onto her stomach. She couldn't believe how much of a liar her father could be, even after her mother died. She didn't believe anything he said. Nothing.

Raoul stormed into the room at the cry of Christine. He had been waiting at the door and crying silently, knowing that he had caused Christine so much pain by telling her about her parents. He rushed to her side and held her there, in front of the fireplace, staring into the embers of the last piece of the family Christine never wanted to hear about ever again.

* * *

The next few days, Christine stayed at the de Chagny manor while Raoul's father arranged for her to live in the opera house of Opera Populaire. He had spoken with Madame Giry, the ballet teacher and housekeeper of the opera, and had asked her to take care of Christine.

Much as Raoul would have loved for Christine to live in his home, he knew not to argue with his father and decided that Christine's living at the opera house was the best for her right now. He saw to it though, that they remained close friends throughout their lives

It was all a blur for Christine. People were arranging her life for her and she did nothing but follow. She moved to the opera house and met Marguerite Giry, the daughter of Madame Antoinette Giry.

"But you can call me Meg, everyone else does!" Meg said brightly to Christine as she greeted her at the door of the dormitory.

So Christine grew up at the opera house, learning how to dance, to sew, to behave like a proper girl. At that point, Christine forgot everything about her father's letter including the promise of her Angel of Music.

That's why she was so startled when, every night, before she lay to bed, a voice would lull her to sleep. It would wake her up every morning as well, and would ask her to vocalize for it. Scared of what the voice was, she obliged and sang for it. She sang until she was a well-formed soprano ad it earned her the stage.

She didn't question her Angel of Music until some time when she got a bit older. But every night, dutifully, the Angel of Music would sing her a lullaby.

"_And the angel of music sings songs in your head. Your angel of music sings songs in your….head…"_

* * *

There's a longer-than-usual chapter for ya lol

So that's what it is…how her parents died, her relationship with them…I didn't wanna focus on Christine's relationship with Raoul too much because this is mainly for the background of christine's family and how she met the Angel of Music…there's a little bit of luvvy-dubby in it for everyone to either enjoy or puke on lol


	6. Awakening in Proximity

A/N: I am so sorry I took long to update!! Here is a chunky chapter for ya!

A lot happens in this chapter and it may be hard to digest but yeah, it's a good one I think…this chapter marks the sexual awakening of our young Christine by none other than…ERIK!

Raoul finally leaves YAY!

I do not own any of the POTO references… o.O im trying this new thing where i chop up the paragraphs to one liners...hope it works

Hmm…what else? Oh yeah, forgive me for my incompetent descriptions of Erik's lair…im not good at describing settings :(…

With that I say, pls read and review, dear fanfickers :)

* * *

_Where…where is he taking me?_ Christine thought, as she was continually being led by the masked man deeper into the soul of the opera house.

Not once did he let go of Christine's clammy hand, reassuring her that her wasn't going to take her anywhere dangerous. She trusted him. She trusted this man, whom she has only met, and yet…there was a connection between them. An intense bond had been created with the touch of their hands, and it sent a wonderful chill down her spine.

They walked far and long, into narrow, winding corridors, whose lights were humble torches that radiated a warm and seductive glow. It seemed like hours before they had finally arrived at a gate that seemed to magically open at the very presence of the man.

The gate had led them into a sort of bungalow whose walls were the bedrocks of the opera house. They were in the dungeons of the opera now.

Christine took the place to be the man's home. As she surveyed the place from the gate, only one word popped into Christine's mind. _Seductive._ The stairs to the center of the bungalow cave were carved rock and were draped with red cloth and music sheets, candelabras, and some other items were messily arranged on them.

The candles in the candelabras were close to dying and its wax drooped on the golden arms of the holder and gave an eerie glow to the cave-like home.

To her far right was a small place devoted to what Christine made out to be his work area. A work desk was placed against the wall with papers and ink bottled scattered about its surface. Atop all the messy documents were a piece of paper with unfinished writing on it, and a quill lay beside it.

There was only one candle burning there and it too was close to burning out.

Scanning the place further, she turned to her left and inhaled quickly. She was staring at the man's bed chamber.

There was a black bed shaped like a swan with a headboard in the shape of swan feathers. The end of the bed was elongated into a swan's head, its neck arched. (A/N: ohhh the infamous swan bed…couldn't resist a good reference :D :D)

The bed sheets and pillows spread on the bed were black satin, and the blanket was a deep color of scarlet. _This is where the man slept_, Christine thought. She shivered.

Across the small lake of murky water was the highest level of the abode. In the middle of the 'plateau' was a large pipe organ whose pipes were solid brass. The keys of the piano were lustrous and beckoning, waiting to be played a fresh piece of music.

All around the organ were many candelabras with candles that shown dimly in the darkness, but were still enough to add depth to the aura of the room.

Unlike all the other parts of the cave, the organ chamber was the most well-kept and neat save for a few music sheets scattered about on the floor. It was clear to Christine that the man treasured his music more than anything else in the place.

Because Christine was so awestruck with her new surrounding, she hadn't noticed the man move away from her. When she had finished sensing her new environment, she quickly looked for him and found him on the plateau. He was busy arranging some papers and things as if not expecting a guest.

"W-who are you?" Christine asked. It was the first thing either of them said since they left Christine's dressing room.

The man looked up from fixing his music sheets and his incandescently emerald eyes met with Christine's full, hazel ones and he extended his right hand to her.

"Come here, Christine," his voice was deep but soft, with a cool undertone.

Christine stood rigid at the very sight of his eyes but forced her body to move towards him as he beckoned her. She walked up the stone stairs, taking in the rest of the man with her eyes.

He was exactly how he had looked like in her dream except he did not have a rose bud tucked in his jacket pocket. The glistening shoes, the gloves…the mask…it was all the same.

She walked to him until they were within an arm's reach of each other. Indeed, he held her arms and drew her closer until their noses almost met. She could see more detail of his mask which was made out of leather. Christine's pulse quicken at the proximity of his body against his. She waited for something to happen; he spoke,

"You want to know who I am, Christine?" in the most seductive voice Christine had ever heard before.

Not even the men, who played with the ballet girls late at night in the many nooks of the dormitories, could come close to the very sensuality of the man holding Christine. And yet, all he was doing was holding her arms near the waist.

"Yes…" Christine breathed. He was much too close to her now, chronic shivers now running down her back.

"Then please sit down," he whispered, motioning to the couch across from the organ with his eyes. Like its other co-furniture it was black with a red cloth slung from corner to corner of it.

He let go of her then, and moved to the organ and sat down on the bench, straightening out his suit before proceeding. Christine had slowly sit down and relaxed her back against the couch. _This is so surreal,_ Christine thought, staring at the slick jet black air of the man sitting at the piano.

With one quick peripheral look if Christine was paying attention to him, he raised his hands to the keys and slowly pressed his long fingers onto them. Sweet music poured out of the pipes, and Christine closed her eyes, envisioning the music flowing into her mind.

Soon, the tempo of the music beat faster and the touch of the keys was more intense, the man's body moved back and forth to add emotion to the music and to pace him to the tempo. He played faster and faster, and Christine held her breath for the final cry of the piano.

She exhaled when the music finally slowed down and it was just as tender as it had started. Then, it faded into nothingness and the bench of the organ creaked. The man was looking at Christine. She opened her eyes, sensing his gaze and offered him a small smile.

He did not smile back, but said, "Now, do you know who I am?" his eyes, ever so penetrating.

The smile faded away from Christine's beautiful face, and she replied, "You are my Angel of Music," then she added, "But who are _you?_"

He didn't reply but stood up from the bench and moved to the couch. He sat beside her. Silence.

Christine thought of a better way to get to him. She asked him something which she knew he would answer, may it be a lie or truth.

"Do you always follow me wherever I go?"

"Yes,"

"Why?"

Silence.

Then he spoke, completely ignoring her last inquisition. "Do you still remember your father, Christine?"

Christine's heart skipped a beat. She wasn't expecting that.

"No, I do not. And I do not wish to remember him," the lie easily rolled off of Christine's tongue. She had missed her father terribly. She was extremely guilty for not having believed in what he had written in the letter, and forgetting about it all.

As if reading her mind, he asked her another question. "Do you still remember what he wrote in the letter he addressed to you?"

Christine's eyes widened, thinking how her Angel of Music had come to know anything about the letter her father sent her? What was the connection?

"Wha-, How do you know about that?" she whispered fiercely, not enjoying the sudden invasion of her private life.

"Christine, I was there when your father died out on the street, that night…", he said slowly, allowing her to digest every word that he said.

It was all too much for Christine to handle. The memory of her past that she tried so hard to push back into her mind was gurgling up again, giving her a sick sensation at the pit of her stomach. Images of her father lying on the street made Christine breathe heavily.

"Christine," the man said, holding out his hand to assist her.

She looked at him and déjà vu swept over, spinning into Christine's vision. Raoul…chaise…letter…father…it was all too much for poor Christine.

She fainted, fell into his arms, and he carried her to his bed.

_Maybe I shouldn't have been so blunt…_Erik thought as he laid her on the bed. When he positioned her into a more comfortable arrangement, he caressed her cheek and pulled the curtains down from up above the swan bed.

_This will have to wait until later on…_He could understand her tiredness; he pulled her right after her performance. Of course, she would be tired. And the long walk to his home must have been exhausting for this little girl.

_Couldn't have picked a better time to tell her, could you Erik?_

* * *

_Christine…where could she be?? _Raoul paced around her dressing room, sweat forming on his brow. Hands at his hips, he looked at the ground, trying to figure out why Christine would stand him up like that when she knew that he was leaving on a business trip that night.

He checked his golden pocket watch from inside of his jacket pocket. 9:45, it read. His train would leave at 10:15, and it took at least twenty minutes to get to the station and there were many other arrangements to take care of.

He didn't want to leave Christine without knowing that she was alright, and without saying goodbye.

_But this meeting in London is important._ He debated against his inner demons and sighed. He didn't have the luxury of time to wait for Christine to return from wherever she was. He decided to write her a letter instead and rummaged through her dresser's drawers and found a pad of paper and a pen. He scribbled down his note and left the opera house quickly.

He climbed into the carriage that would take him to the station and remorsefully looked back at the opera house knowing that he would not be able to see his love for a long time…

­

_Please tell me this is a dream._ Christine thought and opened her eyes. She was lying on a bed that faced a small lake. She stood up from the bed and immediately thought about the man. She straightened out her hair and clothes before setting out to the piano room.

Sure enough she found him there, playing on the organ and jotting on a piece of music sheet in front of him. Watching him play from a distance made Christine remember an unwanted memory of watching her father play the violin in the music room from the door of her bed room.

Brushing the memory away, Christine murmured, "Monsieur," not knowing his name after all.

He stopped playing. By now he had removed his jacket suit and was wearing his polo shirt that opened in ruffles at the chest and left it bare. He had dark chest hair, and a much toned body. He still wore the unusual mask on the right side of his face, but it gave him an air of security, like he could do anything with that mask on, and he would fear nothing.

He stood up to address a woman entering a room, like any gentleman would.

"What do you know about my father?" asked Christine, feeling bold, demanding answers.

He tilted his head to the left, showing more of his mask and spoke, "would you be more comfortable if we sat down, mademoiselle?"

Ignoring the change of topic, Christine repeated her question, this time with more urgency as she was getting more and more impatient with this mans little games.

He sighed and decided that the best way was to tell her directly, but still aware of the fact of how much of this information would hurt her, bringing back sad memories of the past.

"Christine, what I am about to tell you is the truth and nothing less. I would be delighted if you listen to me and not interrupt me, for my spiel will be one that you would most likely be remembering for the rest of your life."

Deciding that this was going to be a long narration, Christine moved forward to the couch where he stood and sat down. He smiled and sat down beside her. He began.

"As any normal person would do, I decided to take a stroll around Paris, in the shadows of course, I would want to risk exposure of my…my…self,"

_You're losing it Erik, don't get nervous…she's watching your every move._

Christine sat silently.

"I had circled around the Rouge Bar a few times and decided that the coldness would take the best of me so I started to walk back here. As I was walking, I heard singing, quite annoying at that,"

His brow furrowed at the insult he threw at her father but it was too late to take it back.

"I immediately hid in an alley and watched the man…your father…walk drunkenly until he took his last swig and dropped to the ground. He didn't stir after that, so I walked up to him and examined him.

He…he had a very sullen look on his face as if he'd been through a lot of trouble. In his hand was an envelope. I regrettably say…I opened it,"

Christine sat rigidly and stared coldly into Erik's clouded green eyes. He had peered into someone's privacy.

"You must understand, Christine, the letter brought tears to my eyes! I wanted to do justice to this man's life and perform his last wish. It must have been fate that you were brought to the opera--_my ­opera. _

After I read it, I looked down at him, wondering why such a man must die when his daughter would be left, lonely in this ill-fated world that we live in.

I heard the police arriving, and I quickly lit a match and melted the under-part of the seal and pressed it closed again, until it would be reopened…by you"

He had been saying this with his head bent, and when he brought it up again to glance at Christine who was shaking, not with anguish, but with utter anger.

"Christine I-," he started to apologize

"YOU BASTARD! How could a man be as cruel as you to look into a man's personal life and read his personal letters?!" Christine, now standing up, shouted at the man with all the strength left inside of her, pushing angry tears from her face.

"Oh why did I have to ask?! Of course, only that mask can hide such a wretched soul like yours! You think you are so powerful with that mask on! That you can do ANYTHING you want like dishonoring a dead man by looking into his private life! Well, look at me! Look at me, you bastard, and show what a monster for a man you really are!"

Christine moved to him and reached out a hand to tear his mask off. Erik, who was already fuming about the unnecessary things she shouted at him, caught her arm, stood up, and pulled her close.

"If it weren't for my guidance and teachings, you wouldn't be half as great of a soprano as you are now," he fiercely whispered against her lips, his eyes changed color to a shade of menacing green.

"And I expected you to be grateful for me! I did as your father wished and if you hate that, then damn him to hell!"

Christine was trying to get out of his impossible grip, but was losing hope. She began to whimper as the pain from his grip was beginning to cut off her blood circulation.

They were both breathing heavily as the silence between them intensified;

Christine, breathing through her mouth, and Erik hissing through his teeth.

"Let me go," Christine pleaded, wincing in pain.

Erik suddenly realized that if he held on longer, her thin forearm would break off under his powerful hand. His expression softened and he let go slowly.

Christine immediately began to massage the hurt, nursing the tingling feeling of blood returning to her fingers.

He moved away from her, ashamed of what he had just done. He turned his back and stared into the deep and murky lake that filled the center of his abode.

He held his lips with his hand and rested the other on his left hip. He had lost his temper when he should've been the understanding one. She was just a little girl, she wouldn't have understood right away.

Christine still couldn't digest all that he had said. Only three words would come out of her mouth.

"Who are you?"

With that, she ran out of the cave, through the gate and onto the long corridor.

He was surprised by her running off and shouted back after her.

"My name is ERIK!" he bellowed.

Hearing those words, Christine ran faster, pounding her bare feet against the cold cobblestone.

She ran until she reached the mirror and slipped back inside the safety of the opera house. She was panting as she stealthily walked into the hallway that led to her room.

She closed her bedroom door behind her and leaned against it. She slowly slid to the floor, silent tears seeping from her eyes.

She dropped her head into her knees and stayed that way for sometime. When she finally tired, she got up and removed her clothes, leaving her chemise on. When she slipped into her bed sheets, eyes drooping, she noticed something atop her side table.

Another rose tied with a black ribbon, was on the table. It was a pastel color of scarlet; the small candlelight by it intensified its mysterious aura.

She drifted off to sleep thinking about Erik's hot breath against her lips. Something churned in her belly, and she was sure that it wasn't hunger.

* * *

A/N: ha! Take that Raoul! She doesn't love you anymore! lol I joke, but we'll get to that part in the future

Hope you like it for what humble chapter it is… btw i changed my title...Angel of Music seems so...common...? o.O


	7. Drowning in Desperation

i meant this story to be on permament hiatus because i saw no development in the characters. but as i was reading it, i realized that something could be done.

disclaim, disclaim, disclaim...

* * *

That night, Christine dreamt again. She tossed and turned in her sleep and moaned. Beads of sweat formed on her pallid forehead and shaky breaths escaped her parted lips. Erik watched from the shadows, shivering with embarrassment at what he was doing; he was a peeping tom but he didn't want to end the night as he had. He wanted to hold Christine in his arms and caress her pain away with sweet whispers and gentle rocking. Instead, he settled for watching from afar, making sure that Christine was safe.

From the moment Erik opened the letter, he knew that he finally had a purpose in life. For whoever the letter was addressed to, Erik wanted to find a way to help the poor girl and influence her with his undying passion for music—it had helped him suppress his hatred and fear of himself that he had no doubts it would help the young girl as well. Who knew that the same girl was turning out to be the young woman that he was falling desperately in love with? In all of their sessions together—her in her room, practicing her arias while Erik listened intently from the walls and ceilings—Erik found Christine to be a zealous student, never failing to impress him with each song. At times, she was stubborn, insisting that what she was singing was in the correct pitch and Erik, despite his firm but gentle chastisement, admired her for that.

"No…E-Erik. No,"

His heart stopped beating and his breath hitched in his throat. He could not believe his eyes and ears. Had his angel really twisted on her bed and whispered his name? Erik dared himself to stalk closer to her bed but suddenly Christine opened her eyes and sat up on her bed. Erik knew how to be stealthy and unnoticeable so he quietly moved back into the shadows, away from the soft moonlight filling in a part of Christine's room. She looked around her room, searching for something, found nothing, and then finally laying back on the bed. Within seconds, Erik could hear the soft purr in Christine's throat signaling her deep sleep. All the while Erik's knees were shaking and his fists were caught in tight clenches. Erik decided that he had risked himself enough that night and crept back through the glass window that served as the doorway to their two worlds.

-oOo-

Christine had no intention of getting up from her bed that muggy morning. The weather was frigid cold; clouds overhead were ominous of even worse conditions of sleet and rain, and a troubling weight pressed sporadically on her chest. She turned to her side and tucked herself tightly into her bed sheets to fight the cold in her snug bed. Pondering the night before, Christine swore that when she woke up in the middle of the night, a pair of glowing emerald eyes was staring at her—not in a stalking, fearful kind of manner, but in a protective, primal need to gaze deeply into her eyes. Satisfied that her Angel of Music was watching over her, she went back to sleep unafraid.

It was too early in the morning to be fretful about trivial things such as a man watching a girl sleep, so Christine set aside those thoughts and decided to think about something else. Raoul had not personally said goodbye to her, and she was somewhat hurt that he didn't even have the time or patience to wait for her. Christine could not even understand her relationship with Raoul. She loved him, yes, but at times she feared that Raoul only loved her as a prize to be won and that he valued his career more than he cared for Christine. She shook her head knowing that through all their childhood years, she was certain that Raoul had a true heart—and that hers belonged to him. She just had to satisfy this certain need to see Erik again.

But recent turns of events muddled Christine's mind. Erik revealed himself to her and has been making himself more and more visible to him. Last night was probably the most erotic night of Christine's life and it puzzled her why Erik would have that effect on her so. What confused her even more was why she wanted so badly to see him again.

Just as Christine closed her eyes and succumbed to sleep, someone barged into her room and slammed the door shut. Mme. Giry looked stolidly at the startled Christine but maintained her composure. Christine sat upright in her covers and rubbed her tired eyes, her wavy hair disarrayed around her face.

"What is the commotion about, Mme. Giry? Am I not expected at practice in a little over two hours?"

"Where were you last night, Christine?" snapped Mme. Giry in the most eloquent yet demure ways as possible.

Christine didn't want to explain the entire night to her, especially while she was sleeping, but she didn't want to lie either. She was terrible at lying and she wouldn't be able to do it to save her life.

"After my performance, I went to visit my Angel of Music. Erik is his name, mother! He revealed himself to me, and oh," Christine's eyes closed, reveling in the memory of last night, "I learned so much from him," _like the fact that he was there, watching, as my father died_, added Christine mentally. Even so, she could not keep herself angry at Erik.

"Christine, I cannot have you dallying around especially now that your career is finally blossoming. Think of how much the de Chagny's have invested in this opera, in you." Mme. Giry tried to explain, walking closer to Christine and sitting at the foot of her bed. She was playing the sweet mother card but Christine's brow furrowed in confusion. She certainly wasn't dallying with anybody! She merely took time after her performance to meet her teacher.

Christine knew not to be cross with Mme. Giry but despite her better judgment, she couldn't control what came out of her mouth. "Dallying? You think I was _dallying?!_ All the time I have been here, I've done nothing but work and practice, and even when my throat was raw and blisters formed at my feet, I still worked and I still practiced! Can't you spare me at least one night to do what I want for a change? I make my own decisions and I am not a girl anymore!" Fuming with anger, tears began to puddle in Christine's eyes.

"Yes, you are not. But then stop acting childish! What has gotten into you, Christine? Is this about Raoul? Because so help me—,"

"This is not about Raoul! This is about me and Erik. I wanted to see him and he wanted to see me, madam. I hardly believe that to be a fault for truancy! I know you know who he is, how else could he have kept himself hidden from me for so long? I forgive you for keeping him from me before, Mme. Giry but I shan't forgive you if you keep _me_ from_ him_." Christine was almost certain that she knew what she was talking about but she was surprising herself as well.

"How dare you speak to me like that, Christine Brigitte Daae! Oh, we shall see about letting you see Erik. From now until I've forgiven you, you will stay here in this room! You are not allowed out, and _no one is allowed in._ I shall have Romano bring you your meals." With that, Madame Giry stood up and walked to the door. Before she made her way out, a broken whisper stopped her cold in her track.

"Why can't you let me see Erik? Nothing is happening. Nothing…" Christine bowed her head, ashamed to face Mme. Giry with salty tears running down her face. She clutched her bed sheets in favor of not lashing out like a stubborn child despite the fact that she was feeling like one.

Quietly, Madame Giry replied. "You will disobey me, Christine. I know it. But I shall leave it up to you to realize what a mistake it is to fall in love with him." The last thing Christine heard was her bedroom door closing softly.

-oOo-

Erik could not believe what he had just heard. He was still feeling guilty about snapping at Christine then stalking her at night, but his feelings recoiled when he heard with his own ears that Christine had truly wanted to see him again! Surely, she would not want to lay her eyes on his wretched face after what he had done to her? It was terrible enough to watch her run away from him, anguished and torn, but to have her—_desperate—_to see him again? The very thought of relinquishing her soft touch upon his hand was sinful for his nature.

But the temptation is there.

It was like a drug to him, he needed to be back in the warmth that was Christine or he'd find himself losing his mind. As he paced around in the darkness, he wondered what it was about the girl that caused him to be so drawn to her. Her beauty was unique, timeless, and youthful, but Erik never saw physical beauty to be a characteristic to admire. But her eyes. Oh, her eyes. A man could get lost in a single stare. It was a rarity to find such eyes to be ocher, brown, and amber all at once. The depth of her eyes and the finesse of the shapes of them were most beautiful to Erik. One look and he would fall back in love with her again and again.

Like a candle burst into flame, suddenly there was purpose in Erik's steps as he walked aimlessly in the catacombs of Opera Populaire. He just couldn't ignore the fact that his fate was slowly becoming tied to Christine's. He didn't know how; he didn't know when, but somehow and sometime, he was going to find a way back to her.

-oOo-

After Christine cried for an hour in bed, she decided that wallowing in self pity was not the best way to solve her problem. She never really was much of a rebellious girl, but Mme Giry sparked certain feelings in her that only spurred her intentions of seeing Erik. She got up from her bed, washed her body with the basin on her dresser, and put on a purple dress. As she was brushing her hair, Christine already had plans zooming through her mind: when it's dark, she'd creep out of her room…she'd escape now and find her way into Erik's cave once again…the possibilities were endless—and so were the consequences. She could just hear Mme Giry yelling her head off as Christine looked at her blatantly. Chuckling to herself, Christine knew that she couldn't be so hard on Mme Giry. She only wanted the best for her but Christine wanted to see Erik again and it wasn't going to change. Raoul would be furious with her, she knew, and she had no excuse for herself.

It was twilight and the purple, orange, blue, and yellow colors at war in the sky was soothing to Christine but it couldn't totally suppress the anxiety that she was feeling the whole day. Her hands shook as she sewed some curtains; her palms would grow sweaty as she attempted to sketch in her notebook. Her ultimate plan was to wait until everyone was quiet and it was dark enough to find a way into the mirror where she had first seen her Angel of Music.

It was near that time now, and already the noise outside her room was the clattering of stowing props and costumes away, the quiet chatter of gossips for the day, and the heavy footsteps of tired dancers retiring for the night. Christine's heart beat loudly in her ears and she chided herself for acting so fidgety.

Christine closed her eyes and counted to a hundred before she got up from her chaise and walked quietly over to her full-sized mirror. She looked into her reflection and she realized that she was forgetting something. Just then, there was a quick rap on her door and Christine jumped in surprise. It was only Romano bringing her supper over to her. Christine thanked him and mentally kicked herself for forgetting about him. She abandoned her bread and soup and made her way to her mirror. She took a deep breath and attempted to open the mirror-door. She remembered this certain gateway to be a sliding door and she tried with all her strength to pull the side of the mirror's frame. It wouldn't budge and Christine slammed her tiny fist into the mirror in annoyance. She wiped a couple beads of sweat off her forehead and rested her hands on her hips.

It was dark in her room now. Only a single candle emitting soft light helped her see a little in her room. There wasn't even any moonlight tonight. It was as if even the heavens were giving ominous warnings of Christine's actions. Little did she know that it wasn't only her actions being frowned upon.

She tried opening the door once again but she was stopped as the temperature in her room lowered substantially and a familiar chill ran down Christine's spine. Gathering her strength, she turned around and extended a quivering hand in front of her and felt for nothing in the air.

"E-Erik, I know you're there. Please, show yourself to me." Christine called out into the darkness. Her fingers tingled knowing that they could very well come into contact with his body.

Suddenly, a very cold yet gentle grip took hold of Christine's hand. Long, deft fingers intertwined themselves with hers and the breath that Christine had been holding onto came out in quiet shudders. In the darkness, Christine immediately began searching for Erik's face, bringing up her other hand to feel for it but that hand too was caught in a cold grasp and placed on what seemed to be a broad shoulder. Erik wound his left arm around Christine's waist causing her body to move closer to his. In doing so, Christine could make out the shadows of his clothes, the contoured edges of his mask, and his enigmatic, glowing eyes.

"What are you doing?" Christine managed to whisper. She didn't trust her voice enough so she settled for speaking softly.

"I am dancing with you." A deep, purr-like voice replied, followed by gentle swaying and small movements of their feet. Erik leaned into Christine, seeming to want to kiss her but she heard him inhale deeply. He was smelling her hair. Christine instinctively leaned her head against his chest, satisfied with the vibrations as Erik begun to hum a soft tune as they danced in her room, in the dark.

After what seemed like an eternity of slow dancing, Christine came to her senses and realized that she should actually still be angry with Erik for what he had said to her. He couldn't buy his way out of this one by slow dancing, and making her swoon for him. With that in mind, she quickly shimmied out of his grasp and slammed a fist into his chest in hopes of injuring him but causing him to be startled at most.

"Christine? Why did you hit me?" Erik almost laughed at her feeble attempt to hurt him physically but the ferocious look on her face kept his guffaw at bay.

She didn't reply; he knew the answer. Instead he exhaled and apologized, "Christine, I am truly, _deeply_ sorry for what happened to you father. But I need you to know that it was in my best interests to help you." Still she said nothing.

"Oh, this is ridiculous." Erik saw her move away from him and his heart faltered a beat or two. "I can't see you without any light." Christine moved over to her side table to retrieve the candle and brought it up to her face to see his. Erik realized that she looked more beautiful than any other woman that he laid eyes on in that moment where the candlelight glowed near her face, casting shadows but accentuating her brown eyes.

"Will you forgive me, Christine?" Erik was still guilty. She closed her eyes, shaking her head in defeat. "How could I not?"

Erik grinned widely, feeling like a little boy who was given a piece of candy. He rushed over to her and wrapped his arms around her in a hug.

"Come, we must go." Erik said after breaking the hug.

Feeling elated, Christine could barely hear him through her happiness. "Where are we going?"

"Well I'm taking you away with me, of course!" Erik grabbed her hand and led her to the mirror where he simply pushed and pulled a hidden latch on its side. The mirror gave way and soon a long dark hallway unfolded itself in front of Christine. She knew that she should actually be frightened at his remark but she could careless as she was being led into the darkness, back to Erik's cave, where a swan bed was waiting.

* * *

ok, what do you think is going to happen? answer in a review!!! :)


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